Took about a year to get all the asphalt down. They were supposed to take barricades down with them as they went, but some signs, and comes, and discarded metals, abandoned materials, were left behind.
Randy travelled the road. Followed its bends and twists. His car a hand, his steering a caress over his work. Not a single jolt, no tires bumping, no strain on the shocks. Randy had mastered the roller. Compacting the asphalt so perfectly, he had every inch of smooth ride he left behind.
Orange blinked at him in the distance. A distress call for salvation. Randy turned on his hazard; it was safer than the signal. Usually. Cars maneuvered around him as he guided the car to the side of the road. As sure and carefully as his steering on the roller.
Unfortunately, such careful driving wasn’t a skill everyone possessed. He got out when it was safe, but a car ripped through the road as if attempting to break the sound barrier. The force of it rocked him. A memory swirled around Randy. As unpleasant as the scent of trash. Being hit by a car going that fast was a miserable experience. Happened to him only once. Happened to ol’ Jake twice. The second time had been fatal.
Randy walked through the cloud of memories. They chased him as fast as the cars on the highway. Trailed him to the cone he retrieved. Should have worn his jacket. Should have taken the company car. But he hadn’t expected to travel the new highway today. Days off were hard for him. Memories always followed.
He walked back to his truck. Chucked the cone in the bed and hopped on. Watchful as he looked to reenter. Did so smoothly. Perfect timing. Back to moving, appreciating his work. Leaving the memories behind for the moment.